


a lesson in communication

by saltwatergarden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Has a Crush, Enemies to Friends, Harry Does Dumb Things, M/M, Oblivious Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergarden/pseuds/saltwatergarden
Summary: Potter has been antagonising Draco left and right because...well, Draco's not exactly sure.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	a lesson in communication

**Author's Note:**

> Punchcard One:  
> Harry and/or Draco finds himself in the Headmistress's office.   
> \- Being punished.
> 
> O.W.L.s Level: 1200-2500 words  
> Word Count: 1934

It was all Potter’s fault.

Yes, admittedly, Draco had thrown the first punch, but Potter had been antagonising him for two weeks straight—following him around at all hours, dropping into conversations Draco was having completely uninvited, and constantly making jabs that were clearly intended to get a rise out of him.

It was partially his fault for rising to the bait, Draco thought morosely, fidgeting in the spindly chair across the headmistress’s desk, but Potter had always known how to get under his skin, and no matter how much calmer and more reserved Draco had been this year so far, he still had his breaking point.

Things had been going so _well,_ too.

Draco knew that he had limited chances left. It had been a miracle he had escaped Azkaban—largely thanks to Potter’s testimony—so when he was invited back to Hogwarts, he knew it was an opportunity he couldn’t take lightly. With the amount of Galleons the Malfoy family had had to pay in reparations for damages during the war and the Dark Mark stubbornly remaining inked into his arm, Draco knew he needed to have every advantage he could possibly get in order to find himself some way of making a living.

He entered Hogwarts this year focused. Now was not a time for lounging about and enjoying himself, it was for hard work and study and for keeping his head down and being as non-threatening and non-combative as possible. He knew people would be looking for excuses to get him in trouble and he was determined not to give them any.

But, of course, Potter had to ruin this.

Draco had tried to pay no mind to Potter at first. He didn’t know why he and his sidekicks had even bothered to return this year, they had all received a multitude of job offers without their N.E.W.T.s.

Potter didn’t even _need_ a job, he was sitting on piles of gold already and could easily just live off of being the Saviour of the Wizarding World for the rest of his life. More than once, Draco had the ridiculous thought that Potter had come back merely to terrorise him, since with him present, Draco found it all the more difficult to focus on classes.

Potter was not the same skinny, knobbly-kneed boy he had once been. He came out of the war looking rather weathered, gaunt in the face from the lack of adequate food, but also taller and more muscular, his arms strong and his chest broad.

He looked even better entering Hogwarts, after what was clearly a summer full of the Weasley matriarch’s cooking—strong and serious, his disastrous hair looking more like it was wind-swept than just a bad case of bedhead. He still had his terrible round-framed glasses and his awkward, lopsided smile, and a bad, hunching posture when he sat, but Draco couldn’t deny it to himself—Potter was _devastatingly_ handsome.

Which made it all the more important that he _stay away._ Potter had already done him an enormous favour by testifying at his and his mother’s trials, and Draco knew that their long-lived rivalry had to end. He couldn’t get caught mocking the biggest hero in the Wizarding World now. But of course, despite Draco’s efforts to avoid Potter at all costs, Potter simply had to position himself directly in Draco’s way.

McGonagall regarded them, her eyes narrowing over her rectangular glasses.

“I have to say, gentlemen, I expected better of you.”

Draco sat as still as he could, despite the urge to squirm in his chair. His nerves were on edge, and he was terrified that he was about to be expelled.

“You are serving as an example to the younger students,” she continued. “Mr Potter, we spoke about the importance of house unity at the beginning of the year, or have you already forgotten?”

Potter looked rather abashed.

“Fisticuffs!” she exclaimed. “I am truly at a loss for words. I am quite familiar with the many differences you boys have had over the years,”

This was—in Draco’s opinion—somewhat understating things, as Draco had long considered Potter his arch-nemesis and regularly thought about how to disrupt Potter’s day. Admittedly this changed after the Dark Lord’s return, and life had spiralled into something chaotic and dangerous and dark. And yet, still, Potter had never been far from the front of his mind.

“However,” McGonagall went on, and Draco forced himself to focus, “after the events of the war, I have to say I was hoping you had put this petty feud behind you.”

“Headmistress—” Potter started, and Draco was incredulous that he thought it was a good idea to _interrupt_ McGonagall mid-lecture, but before she could direct another dangerous look their way, her office door burst open with a loud bang.

Draco’s head jerked around, his hand automatically reaching into his robes and pulling out his wand, his heartbeat rocketing up in record time.

Rubeus Hagrid appeared in the Headmistress’s doorway with a stunned expression on his face.

Draco breathed out in relief, and made to tuck his wand away, noticing with a jolt of surprise, that Potter had done the exact same thing, his wand clenched tightly in his hand.

As he turned back around, he saw the McGonagall’s face had softened slightly.

“Sorry to bother yeh, Headmistress,” said Hagrid. “Only Professor Slughorn said to tell yeh there’s a problem in the dungeons.”

“What is the issue?”

“Erm, well,” Hagrid shuffled from foot to foot. “He said tha’ Peeves got into his private storeroom.”

McGonagall immediately got to her feet.

“Was his storeroom not _locked?_ ” she demanded, already hurrying towards the doorway to follow Hagrid out.

“Boys!” she barked, turning back around. “You are to wait here for my return and for your punishments. If I find you have exchanged a single spell, or Merlin forbid, a _punch,_ it is automatic expulsion for you both. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Draco said at once, Potter quickly parroting him.

With that, Hagrid departed, McGonagall sweeping after him, leaving a strange and tense silence in their wake.

Draco sat, still facing the Headmistress’s chair, despite its current emptiness. He could feel Potter’s eyes on him, and forced himself not to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.

Unfortunately, Potter still seemed determined to provoke him.

“What is going _on_ with you this year?” he grumbled, crossing his arms like a child.

Draco pressed his lips together tightly.

“Why do you always do this?” Potter continued, almost talking more to himself than to Draco. “Why do you always have to make things so _difficult?”_

At this, Draco could no longer stay silent.­

“Me?” he exclaimed. “ _I’m_ the one making things difficult?”

Potter stared at him, looking surprised that Draco had actually responded.

“I have done nothing but keep my head down _all_ year. People have been throwing everything from Stinging Hexes to literal _rotten vegetables_ at me since September and I have said nothing! _You_ are the one that suddenly _appears_ at every corner I turn, with something to say! ‘Not as mouthy without your bodyguards, Malfoy!’ ‘Better run before the Muggleborns curse you, Malfoy!’ ‘You’re exactly like your _father,_ Malfoy!’” He spat the last one, unable to keep his blood from boiling, because that had been the comment that had finally pushed him too far and caused him to swing a punch at Potter’s stupid face.

Potter looked pale, taken aback and looking somewhat as if he had just realised that he was the one who had said all of those things.

“I’m—er…I didn’t—I mean—I’m…I’m sorry,” he stuttered out and Draco gave him a disbelieving look.

“You’re _sorry?_ ” he demanded. “I don’t need you to be _sorry,_ Potter. Merlin knows I’m not expecting anyone to be _friendly,_ but honestly, what is the point in following me around like this? Do you want me to leave?”

It seemed to be the only logical conclusion, that Potter was trying—as many others were—to drive Draco to leave Hogwarts. He had been tempted, admittedly, on multiple occasions, but he knew that without his N.E.W.T.s, his future would be more doomed than it already was.

Potter looked dumbfounded.

“What? I—no! No, of course not!”

Now it was Draco’s turn to look confused.

“Then…why? I’m not saying I don’t deserve it, but I’d think you’d have better things to do.”

Potter’s pale face coloured prettily, and Draco cursed himself for thinking so in the middle of an argument.

“I…I dunno, really,” Potter stumbled, looking down at his hands and wringing his fingers distractingly. “I just…we shook hands after…after your trial and I thought…I dunno. But this year, you’ve been so…quiet and subdued and just letting people hex you without a response and it’s not like you.”

Draco blinked at him.

“So you’ve been…what? Trying to provoke me into some sort of response? Trying to get me to hex people back?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean, I dunno,” Potter’s shoulders slumped. “It’s just…weird, seeing you like this. Normally, you’d be coming up behind me and making fun of my hair or something.”

“Right,” Draco said. “Are you saying you _want_ me to make fun of your hair?”

“No, I just…” Potter let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know exactly. I guess I just…missed you.”

Draco gaped, unable to formulate a response, but it didn’t matter, because Potter kept talking.

“I know the way I went about it was wrong, Hermione kept saying so. But sometimes, it’s like, I don’t know what else to say, I don’t know how to talk to you without exchanging insults. But it’s not the same when you’re not saying any back. I _am_ sorry. I was out of line. Especially…you’re not like your father, at all, really. I was just…trying to get you angry, I suppose.”

Draco felt himself stumbling around in his brain for something to say. He certainly had no background experience in a conversation like this, let alone with _Potter_ , of all people, so he wasn’t sure how to proceed from here.

“Erm, well. Yes. I…I suppose I can understand that. Slightly. Does this mean you’re going to stop?”

Potter, once again, looked mildly embarrassed.

“Yeah, I’ll stop.”

Another silence followed Potter’s words, this one stilted and awkward.

“You don’t suppose…” Potter began, chewing on his bottom lip in such a way that Draco had to firmly concentrate on maintaining eye contact.

“What, Potter?” he said, though his tone had relaxed into something gentler, and perhaps also curious.

“You don’t suppose we could…I dunno, call a truce? Try and be mates?”

Truly, Potter had an uncanny ability to produce words in an order that was absolutely unexpected and baffling.

“You want to be _mates?_ ” Draco said, the word feeling strange and foreign in his mouth.

Potter shrugged.

“I—yeah, I do. I figure…war’s over. Time to turn over a new leaf, or page, or whatever the Headmistress is always saying.”

“War’s over,” Draco repeated, mostly to himself, before looking back up at Potter. “So you’re saying all this time while you’ve been harassing me, it’s been a tactic to get me to be friends with you.”

Potter went pleasantly pink again.

“Well, not exactly. It’s just—”

Draco allowed himself a small smirk.

“Relax, Potter. I’m teasing.”

“Oh,” said Potter. Slowly, a grin crossed over his face. “So that means you want to be mates too?”

Draco couldn’t help but look at Potter’s mouth, at his stupid, toothy smile, and something churned deep in his stomach.

He met his eyes again and smiled.

“Something like that.”


End file.
